


i'm all out of salt (i'm not gonna cry)

by Rennajade



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Bisexual Beca Mitchell, F/F, Fluff, becommissar, bisexual disaster beca mitchell, eventual angst warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28209264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rennajade/pseuds/Rennajade
Summary: "i put salt in your coffee when you were in the bathroom and you drank it all and that was hardcore want to go out sometime"post pp3 but we're gonna ignore a lot of the third movie
Relationships: Kommissar/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 15
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

“Come to dinner Beca,’ they said. ‘It’ll be _fun_ , Beca,’ they said. But did they warn me it was formal? No, of course not, why would they do that?”

It was petty, sure. The Bellas just wanted her to break out of her shell and have some time to de-stress. She knew they were just trying to help and give her some time off, let her blow off some steam and reconnect. Things had been _weird_. Not just in the regular Bellas-antics, multiple-public-embarrassments weird, but the ‘We graduated and now we’re adults and everything is different and scary’ weird.

It was even weirder after the whole… DJ Khaled thing. This was supposed to be her celebratory dinner. None of the girls had told her so, of course, but she _knew_. They were shit at secrets, and for all her social ineptitude, she had learned to read them like the (very odd) books they were.

_Books_. It fit. They were such a ridiculously mismatched group, but it just… worked. Somehow.

Each person was their own novel in the series of life.

_That would make a good song base_ , something said, and she made a quick note in her phone under all the other messily scrawled, half-baked ideas in the list. She scrolled through them sometimes, looking for inspiration, and never found that she was able to build anything from them. But she kept them anyway, just in case.

She loved the girls, so when they insisted that she come out with them, she had only whined a little before she relented. Even though everything in her body ached and she just wanted to sleep, even though she was still reeling a little from the ridiculous events of tour. Fat Amy’s… everything with her dad. The Chloe-Chicago thing, and just – everything else.

It felt good. It felt _right_ to some extent, moving in separate directions. She knew that they’d all go their separate ways eventually, and it was good, and they were all ready, but it was still sad and maybe she cried a little. But _no_ she wouldn’t tell anyone that.

Chloe was the first to notice she seemed… off. While the rest of the girls got increasingly louder, she got quieter until finally there was a low, “Hey, you okay?” in her ear.

The closeness made her jump a little – even though Chloe had done this for years and honestly, she should’ve been used to it – but she just nodded. “Yeah. Just taking it all in. A little stunned still, probably.”

Red curls bounced and she wondered for the millionth time how Chloe managed to get such perfect ringlets. It was a mystery, and they’d decided that Beca didn't have that mystery-something back in sophomore year of college, when Chloe tried to curl her hair and burned a piece off because she was too stubborn to admit defeat.

It was nice, having everyone back together. For all her initial misgivings about teamwork and being in a “girl pack,” she’d grown to love it. Going back to being separated would be… lonely.

She took a long drink of the celebratory champagne the girls had ordered, hoping to erase the creeping dread. She should be happy. She _was_ happy. It was just bittersweet.

“I thought I heard squeaking from this booth,” an amused, distinctly not-American voice said.

The entire table fell silent, and then immediately erupted again – only this time it was with badly-concealed whispers, which only made the skin around bright blue eyes crinkle in quiet laughter.

“You do realize I can hear you?” That striking gaze, alight with mirth, made its way around the table. She seemed purposeful in the way she completely avoided Beca until she had carefully examined each and every other person at the table, and only then did she meet Beca’s stunned gaze. “Hello again, _Mäuschen_.”

She could feel all the girls’ eyes on her, and she tried _so hard_ to come up with something sensible and rational that didn’t reflect the way her brain – and potentially her legs – had just turned to jelly. _What are you doing here?_ or _Hi, it’s been a while_ or even just ‘ _Sup?_

What came out instead was, “Hi yourself, you gorgeous German goddess.”

The Kommissar’s eyebrows quirked, and the corners of her mouth turned up, and Beca could tell that she was laughing inside. Strangely, though, her usual bravado seemed to be absent.

“Really, Becs? Still?” Chloe hissed, and Beca groaned, and the rest of the table _actually_ erupted now. She didn’t catch most of it because her brain had stuck on a loop of indecisiveness between ducking under the table to hide or staring _intently_ into that intense, world-consuming gaze. The compromise was, apparently, flicking her gaze rapidly from the Kommissar’s to the table and back again. Over and over.

She did, however, catch Amy’s “Oof, still got it _bad_ ,” and managed a half-hearted glare across the table. To which Amy just shrugged.

Kommissar hovered, and Beca took a moment to really look at her. She wasn’t wearing the DSM uniform (which made sense, probably – they didn’t wear that stuff everywhere), but she still had the edge. The combat boots stayed, as did the updo. The leather jacket and the choker were just bonus edgy-points. But beyond that, she looked almost… out of place? Awkward, even?

_Kommissar is a personality_ , Beca reminded herself. And then, abruptly, realized she had no idea what her actual name was.

She didn’t need to know it, and there was no reason to still be so flustered, but it was undeniably good to see her again. It had been years, and maybe she had stalked DSM a little. Okay, fine, not _DSM_ specifically. Their leader. Still, she should really tell Kommissar to kick rocks.

Instead, she found herself scooting over, shoving Chloe a little, gesturing to the booth and asking, “You want to…? I mean, we wouldn’t mind – I wouldn’t, I mean, who doesn’t want a gorgeous blonde next to them, right?” Her nervous laugh hung in the air like a taut and wrongly-struck chord, but she was pleasantly surprised when Kommissar only smiled.

“Yes, I think I shall.”

“ _Oh god your sweat still smells like cinnamon what the fuck._ ”

Nobody else heard, but Kommissar, who had now slid in just inches from her, definitely did. And she _winked_.

Well, fuck.

Coming out to dinner was definitely the worst possible idea, but maybe it was also the best? Because it was genuinely good to see Kommissar again.

_Kommissar._

She felt the cheesy smirk on her face, couldn’t stop it, leaned over, and asked “Care to give a girl your name?”

The sultry husk in her voice surprised both of them, and across the table Emily whispered “why do I suddenly feel like we’re intruding”, but Kommissar smirked right back at her.

“It’s Luisa.” There was a brief pause, and she held her hand out, and when Beca took it she expected a handshake, but instead Luisa lifted it to her lips and whispered against her knuckles, “ _Enchantée._ ”

Her brain was mush, still, but she also felt it break. Error 404, Beca not found. Luisa’s lips lingered just a little longer than they really needed to and she looked up – up! – at Beca from under _impossibly_ long lashes, and it barely registered that she had been greeted with French, not German. Pieter had once said Luisa spoke eight languages, though, and French must have been one.

She managed to croak, “You too,” and Luisa’s eyes twinkled, but she didn’t release Beca’s hand.

Cynthia cleared her throat, and Beca almost wanted to reach across and strangle her. _Almost_. Because Luisa’s ridiculously soft hand was still on hers, though now under the table, and she felt simultaneously like she was flying but might crash into cliffs at any moment.

“So, Kommis- uh, Luisa. What are you doing here?”

“Here? Coffee,” she lifted her mug as if it was self-explanatory. “In France, though, I am on vacation.”

“From DSM?”

“No, actually. We’ve disbanded last year.” There was a nearly imperceptible tightness in her voice, and the others likely missed it, but Beca had spent _far_ too many hours watching interviews and had picked up a few tells. “I am a fitness instructor now."

Personal trainer wasn’t exactly the job Beca had expected from Luisa, but now that she'd said it, she seemed well-suited to it.

Unfortunately, that meant that Beca's mind had fixated on envisioning her stretching for yoga, or doing pull-ups shirtless with cut shoulder muscles rippling under her skin. She had seen the absolutely flawless condition Komm – _Luisa_ had been in during the competitions. The woman could probably bench her like it was nothing.

_Oh god._ Because, of course, that was what she imagined next. And Luisa’s thumb gently rubbing circles into the back of her hand was _not_ helping. Fire zipped under her touch, and Beca almost felt like she was drowning. She was also terrified to say anything, because it would _definitely_ just be more embarrassingly aggressive compliments.

The rest of the Bellas looked on warily, but eventually the conversation picked up and they returned to their usual loud drone. Much to the annoyance of the waiters, if looks were anything to go by.

At a particularly loud point in the conversation – Chloe and Amy yelling about whose boytoy was hotter, or something – Luisa leaned over. Beca wasn’t sure whether to lean away or lean toward her, but she did nearly choke when Luisa leaned _so_ _close_ that her breath fanned Beca’s ear.

“ _I was every little hungry schoolgirl's pride and joy?_ ” and there was a question in it, and Beca’s mouth went dry as she turned to stare and – oh. Luisa’s face was _so close_. Those eyes were a thousand times more intense up close.

“You watched the performance?” she whispered back, and she heard the cacophony in her own voice and winced. It was too shrill and definitely too strangled.

“Well, it was televised,” Luisa shrugged, sipping her coffee. She watched Beca from the corner of her eye and smiled. “But… I may have sought out the right channel. Perhaps in search of one feisty _Mäuschen._ “ She must have noticed, in real-time, that Beca’s brain had short-circuited. Luisa grinned, a brilliant, all-teeth, too-white-too-perfect smile, and Beca had never really thought about her own smile but up against Luisa’s it wouldn’t even compare. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

Beca followed her – _no_ , she wasn’t staring at Luisa’s absolutely perfect ass – and swallowed. As soon as she was out of earshot, all the Bellas stared at her. And various degrees of “Really, Beca?” to “Get it girl,” to “Should we go? We should go, this is clearly not a Bellas thing anymore” resounded around the table.

If there was a conscious thought process, Beca wasn’t sure what it was, but she was reaching for and sipping Luisa’s coffee before she could think better of it. And oh god it was strong and it was _bitter_. How the fuck did she drink this stuff?

“Beca, what the–”

“Indirect kiss,” she replied instantly, and immediately groaned. “Fucking – how is she still _this_ in my head?”

“ _Lesbihonest–”_

“Nope! No. None of that. That’s not what this is.” A pause. “Probably.” Another pause. “… I don’t think that’s what this is?” Yet another, and finally, “Okay, fine, that might be what this is.”

Chloe _stared_ at her. And then laughed. “Oh my god, are you finally admitting how painfully bi you are?” She sounded almost _gleeful_ , and Beca blinked. “Okay, seriously, this has been obvious like… since I met you. Don’t think I didn’t see you checking me out in the shower and yes–” she flipped her hair. “I enjoyed it.”

Had her face ever felt so hot? Probably not. Probably never. Jesse had never made her feel like this, which probably should’ve been a clue much sooner, but bygones were bygones and he was happy with his new girlfriend.

“That’s – I’m – I never–”

Flustered, she looked for sugar, found it, dumped it into Luisa’s coffee and tried to take a sip.

And promptly spit it out.

_Salty._

Oh, god. She put salt in Luisa’s coffee. _Salt._ What – how was she supposed to explain that? Oh sorry, the salt-fairy came and did this?

“Beca, that was salt.”

“I’m aware.”

“She’s definitely gonna know.”

“Maybe she just… won’t drink the rest?” Sheepishly, and she grimaced. “Okay wait what do I tell her? ‘I wanted to drink the same coffee that touched your absolutely perfect lips because I wanted to be that coffee cup’?”

Cynthia stifled a laugh, and Beca nearly threw the mug at her.

She had no time to think of a suitable reply, though, because Luisa seemingly materialized out of thin air, sliding back into the booth. This time, she draped her arm over the seat behind Beca and sat back, clearly comfortable and _fuck_ she just oozed sex appeal and that fuck-me red lipstick was – ugh.

And then she grabbed her mug. Nobody said a word, everyone scrambling to find an excuse mentally but physically unable to make words happen. Luisa arched a brow at the quiet, briefly confused.

When it hit her, though, there was a shift.

Rather than spit it out – which would have absolutely been a fair response – she leveled her gaze on Beca, a challenge in her eyes. A flicker of the same competitive spirit from her DSM days.

She maintained that eye contact.

And she downed the entire mug without so much as a cough.

There was zero reason for that to be as hot as it was and the table was still deathly quiet, and Beca meant to apologize for accidentally spiking The Kommissar’s coffee.

“Holy shit please date me,” came out instead.

A multitude of heads snapped in her direction as Luisa set the mug down, eyebrows nearly up to her hairline.

For a split-second, she thought she had made a horrible mistake and misinterpreted their banter from Worlds, that this was going to absolutely blow up in her face as Luisa regarded her, head cocked to the side. But then the little crinkled crows’ feet at the corners of her eyes returned, and her smile could’ve blinded the sun but it definitely dazzled Beca.

“Under one condition,” she said, and Beca just nodded expectantly as she leaned in, and one of those silk-soft hands tipped her chin up. Her tone didn’t match her expression, one laced in venom but the other full of mirth, when she said, _“Never_ salt my coffee again.”

A squeak, and another nod. “Nope, I mean yep, obviously, I don’t even know how that happened because it definitely wasn’t me trying to do that indirect kiss thing of course–”

“Hm.” A hum, or perhaps a rumble, and Beca was reminded of a lion. Perhaps that’s what this had always been – a game of cat and mouse. Beca, the mouse, which she was growing more comfortable with each day. And Luisa, well.

Luisa was the lioness.

“Well then, you can make it up to me by buying me a coffee tomorrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> whoops i slipped and fell into making a multichap

“ _Beca_! You’re going to be late, get up!”

She groaned, already regretting agreeing to go anywhere before ten. Couldn’t Luisa have picked an actual, _human_ time to face the world? What normal person wakes up at six in the morning?

Yet another reason to believe she was an actual goddess.

“ _BECA. GET. UP._ ” There was a rush of cold air and she yelped, blankets suddenly gone. “If you hadn’t been talking about this literally all night I’d think you didn’t want to go.”

“ _Ugh._ It’s so early, just kill me.”

“And let you miss out on your hot date? Nah.”

“We never clarified it’s a date.”

“You literally said ‘holy shit please date me’ and she agreed. That’s a date.” Chloe stared down at her, hands on hips, and there was a concerning glint of mischief in her eyes. “C’mon. Up, go shower. I can do your hair after.”

“Chlo, I appreciate it, but no. I’m not dressing up.” At narrowed eyes, she scoffed. “Not much, anyway. I’m just gonna put my hair up.”

Chloe refused to leave until she had sat up and moved toward the shower, but finally she allowed Beca some peace and quiet. The reassurance and wing-woman act was nice, but this was one of the instances where she really didn’t need it. Not because she wasn’t terrified, because of _course_ she was. She just knew she’d talk herself out of going completely if she had too much time to think.

Which was why, twenty minutes after rolling out of bed, she was already out the door. She knocked, checked with the group and mentioned she was heading out (to which she got various encouraging cheers) and resisted the urge to swipe a coffee on the way out of the hotel.

_Coffee with Kommissar. No, Luisa. Not Kommissar anymore._

It felt unreal. Just running into her in _France_ of all places was ridiculous, and the direction this had taken was even more unexpected.

They’d had tension, of course. Nobody could deny that, and Beca had been uncomfortably forward with her thoughts. It was still uncomfortable, honestly. She was used to things taking time, for it to go from something like a flicker to a calm fire. By comparison, the electric tension between her and Luisa had always been… so much more. Like a roaring bonfire. Or a volcano, rumbling to life faster than she knew what to do with.

Not once had she felt such an immediate attraction to anyone. Jesse had always been more of a comfortable, easy romance. They just fell into a routine, and at some point it moved from platonic to romantic, and Beca couldn’t even pinpoint when it happened. With Chloe there had been a heavier pull, more of a magnetism, but it still hadn’t been this raging fire Luisa lit.

The aggravated sigh that escaped her made some guy on the sidewalk scowl at her, certain it had been directed at him, and she fought the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

The café Luisa had chosen didn’t take too long to find, just a few blocks from the hotel. The sun caught a glint of sun-kissed hair through the window, and Beca chuckled. Of course Luisa was early. The woman still had a ridiculous trait of being absolutely perfect at everything, clearly.

When she actually entered the café, though, something caught in her throat. Her breath, maybe. But it caught, and it stuck, and she felt her grip tighten on the strap of her bag.

Luisa had picked a cute little corner with a pair of sinfully comfortable-looking armchairs. She looked similar to yesterday, combat boots kicked up on the little ottoman, zipped up over slashed dark jeans. Beca let her eyes linger, particularly when she realized Luisa’s biceps and shoulder were on show. Her leather jacket draped over the arm of the chair, and she rested her cheek against the back of one hand with a book in the other.

Holy shit. She definitely wasn’t lying about that fitness instructor thing.

A few stray blonde tresses framed her face, and her updo looked looser this morning. Casual, relaxed.

The rest of her looked just as calm, and Beca was reminded again of a lioness. As she watched, Luisa flipped a page in the book (with just one hand – was she actually superhuman?) and her brow furrowed the tiniest bit. Just enough for a crease to appear, and for Beca to think of kissing it smooth again.

_Down, girl. Easy._

She finally found the will to move her feet and she must not have been very quiet on them because Luisa looked up as she approached and hit her with that blindingly brilliant smile she’d once seen on stage. It wasn’t laced with the same unwavering confidence, but it was still so _her_.

“ _Hallo_ ,” she chirped, but didn’t move beyond setting her book down. “You found me without much trouble, I see.”

“Followed the scent of cinnamon and sex appeal,” Beca shot back, and immediately groaned. To her credit, Luisa just chuckled at her.

“I thought mice liked cheese, not cinnamon?” When Beca only rolled her eyes, her smile softened. “Come, sit – although I may send you away again for the coffee I am owed. Since you rudely destroyed my last one.”

“Okay, it was only salt because you apparently drink Satan’s soul which is kind of hot, but I tried to take a drink and _how_ do you drink anything that black? Like dude, I like black coffee too but I’m not a masochist.”

Rambling had been… sort of averted? She was proud of herself for not rattling off a million compliments. Instead, it was just awkwardly confessing that she’d tried to drink Luisa’s coffee. For no apparent reason. Maybe that was worse.

She glanced over just in time to watch something dark flash across blue eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came and Beca wasn’t even sure she had seen it to begin with.

“You should not drink strangers’ coffee,” she chided, but the amused twinkle in her eyes lightened the mood. “What if I had a cold?”

“I know at least a few ways to warm you up.”

Luisa giggled. _Giggled._ Like a schoolgirl.

Fuck, was she trying to kill Beca? She had thought it was the Kommissar’s domineering, haughty attitude that got her so infatuated, but she was realizing that no, it was Luisa’s… everything. Everything about her fascinated Beca, and she wanted to know so much more.

It was uncomfortable. That ridiculous magnetic pull had never left, only changed slightly. Beca found herself just as drawn in as she had two years ago. Possibly more, now.

“Coffee?” she choked, searching for anything to break the tension.

Luisa’s nod and “Yes please,” was so… oddly sweet? She was what, almost six feet tall? But like this, curled into a comfy chair, all softness and relaxed curves, she looked so much smaller than her frame. “Oh, perhaps pastries? They have excellent bagels here. Have you eaten yet, _Maus?_ ” Beca’s stomach chose that moment to snarl viciously, and Luisa laughed. “Get us both something then, _ja_?”

Fifteen minutes and a bit of swearing (because of course she spilled her first cup and had to ask for and pay for a replacement) she made her way back, balancing bags and cups in both hands. She passed Luisa hers, beaming a little at the quiet, “ _Danke_ ,” and the smile on Luisa’s lips as she sipped the coffee.

The two of them settled into their respective chairs and Beca followed the other woman’s example, resting her own feet on the ottoman. Luisa was close enough to touch, and she was too freaked out to do it, but the thought definitely crossed her mind. “I can’t believe you get up this early.”

“No? The sun is already up.”

“I mean – okay, fine, _technically_ it’s daytime, but the world doesn't actually exist before nine.” She took to applying cream cheese, hoping to avoid staring at Luisa. It didn’t work.

Luisa's soft smile as she tilted her head was far too adorable for someone whose stage presence was entirely built as a badass commander. “I love mornings. Sunrise, especially. We’re too late for it, now, but perhaps another time.”

Beca’s brows shot up. “Confident we’ll be seeing each other again, huh?”

There was that fucking _wink_ again. “We shall see. You’re still tiny – could fit in my pocket. Perhaps I’ll steal you away.”

Beca's breath hitched a little, and the possibility of being swept away by this stunning creature in front of her was more tempting than it should be. She had just enough sense to scoff instead of swoon. “I’m _not_ small. I’m totally average. You just have unfairly long legs. We can’t all be from Themyscira, y’know.”

Thunder and lightning crackled behind Luisa’s eyes as she shifted, tilted her head just slightly. “Average is not the word I would use to describe you, _Maus_.”

It could’ve been a dig. And before, Beca would’ve taken it as one. Instead, she found herself absolutely captivated, unable to tear herself away, even though there was a perfectly good bagel still with her name on it. That electric tension buzzed in the air between them, broken only when Luisa smirked and turned her gaze back to her coffee. It felt like being released from an enchantment, and Beca immediately missed it.

Another sip, another silence settled, and then, “Where are you off to after this?”

Finally, something she could grab on to. Any topic that wasn’t instantly laced with double meanings felt like a win right now. “Miami, I think? DJ Khaled hasn’t actually told me, but I know he has a studio there which I figure is probably where I’ll be at?”

“Music production?”

“Yeah,” and this was the first time she flashed Luisa a grin that wasn’t hampered by all the tension and frustration. “It’s an incredible opportunity. I’m still reeling a bit and I’m still surprised he picked me.” _Just me,_ she nearly added, but left it alone instead.

“Don’t be,” Luisa remarked. “You deserve it.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Says the person who was so bitter that we lost that she didn’t even congratulate us,” she snorted. “Thanks, though.” Luisa didn’t respond, and Beca almost missed the way her jaw tightened. “You know I didn’t actually expect you guys to come congratulate us, right?”

Whatever it was, it was gone when Luisa turned back to her. “ _Ja._ I had intended to, though. Other matters came up.” There was a hesitation there. It was soft and nearly imperceptible, and would have been easy to miss, but it was there. Beca debated asking about it for a moment, but decided to file it away for later instead. Luisa already looked uncomfortable.

“How about you? You have the fitness thing going? Which totally doesn’t surprise me considering all the muscles and the – general _you_. Seriously, you look like you were sculpted by the gods.” Well, the rambling wasn’t going away any time soon. At least now it looked like Luisa appreciated it.

She hummed, the same deep rumble from last night, and Beca found it hard to concentrate. “ _Ja._ It’s been lovely. Gets the blood flowing and is a nice way to help people.” Her wolfish grin a moment later caught Beca off guard, because it was the Kommissar’s predatory smile. “And I get to command them all.”

Beca smirked. Still there. Just tempered by the years, apparently. The silence stretched again, comfortable yet thick, until she glanced over to see Luisa finishing off her coffee. She held her hand out wordlessly for the cup and collected up their trash. “Wanna get out of here?” Luisa’s arched brow sent her into a tailspin. “Not like – _that_. I didn’t mean it in a weird way, just that this has been nice and I wouldn’t mind looking at your gorgeous face some more. Or anything else.”

So much for not being weird.

Luisa grinned at her. “I’d love that.”

Beca went to toss their trash while Luisa collected her own things, and when she turned to walk back, she paused. From here, she could clearly see the way Luisa stood and immediately swayed, closed her eyes, and gripped the back of the chair with white knuckles. For a moment she stayed there, weaving almost dangerously, but after what seemed like far too long, let go of the chair and swung her own bag over her shoulder.

She still looked a bit shaky, the sure and confident sway of hips absent from her stride, but she greeted Beca with another blinding smile. “Shall we, _Mauschen_?”

“I have a name, y’know.”

“I know. It’s Beca, but I prefer _Maus_.”

“You know I also know it’s a term of endearment, right?”

Surprise, but then a nod. “Clever _Maus_ ,” she mused. “Was there a question?”

“Why call me _Maus_ during Worlds?”

Luisa stared at her for a moment before she laughed, and that sound alone could have bent Beca to her will. “I liked you. Was that not obvious?”

_Error 404: Beca Not Found_ was back.

It took a solid few seconds before she was able to choke out “ _Liked_?”

“Like, actually,” Luisa clarified, glancing away and – was she _shy_? “Our banter was always just for fun, _Maus_ , did you think otherwise?”

“I-“ No, actually, she hadn’t. She had been very aware of what was building between her and Kommissar. Every new meeting brought new tension, and it had been _so close_ to breaking whatever dam held it back before Worlds ended. But she had also been _positive_ that she had just misinterpreted. There was no way someone as powerful and self-assured was legitimately into her scrawny self. “You’re _literally_ perfection.”

“… Thank you?”

“No no, like – you’re absolute perfection, and I, uh…” Blue eyes stared at her expectantly, something bright and glittering in them, and on an exhale she managed, “Ikindofthoughtyouwereoutofmyleage.”

Beca prided herself on being a step ahead of others most of the time, but Luisa snatching her wrist and jolting her to a stop so that she could spin Beca to face her was not something she had expected. “When do you leave?”

She sounded almost breathless, but also soft and open and _fuck_ with Luisa staring down at her like this just a few inches away, Beca wasn’t entirely sure she could think. Through the haze of pure _want_ (what the fuck what the fuck this is so fast) she squeaked out, “Five…? Days I think?” And with a bit more of a struggle, “Why?”

Fingertips under her chin, and she absolutely expected Luisa to kiss her with how dark her eyes were and the way she looked at Beca like a lost soul in the desert seeing water for the first time in days. She tipped Beca’s face up, just a touch, and instead of the kiss on the mouth Beca had expected, she pressed the softest kiss to her forehead.

All of Beca’s breath left her in one _whoosh_ and her heart slammed against her chest, and she hadn’t realized it was possible to feel so _much_ from just a kiss on the forehead.

And then Luisa murmured against her skin, “I’d like to know how long I have to show you exactly how _in_ my league you are.”

The flush of her skin felt like fire racing in her veins, and she groaned in embarrassment as she buried her face in the fabric in front of her. Luisa’s low laugh vibrated against her nose, and she almost had the presence of mind to be a little bashful that she had pretty much just shoved her face into Luisa’s chest.

Almost.

Instead, her mind was elsewhere, fixated on the possibility of more of these little dates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to take guesses at... things c:
> 
> also! i'm currently relying on a mix of google translate (i know i know i knOW) and researching context for phrases + learning via duolingo, so if you find something that sounds uncomfortable, unnatural, or is just flat out wrong, i'd super appreciate letting me know so i can fix it please? :) german is such a pretty language and butchering it isn't my intention at all <3


	3. Chapter 3

This was the part of getting to know someone that Beca hated. The stilted and forced-formal texts, the worrying that she was going to text too much. Sure, she’d gotten better at handling herself, but it had been years since she had dated anyone, and she wasn’t even positive that’s what was happening here. It could’ve easily just been a passing fling. She wasn’t moving to Europe, and Luisa probably wasn’t chomping at the bit to move to Miami (or LA, or wherever she would have to go for music.)

Her fingers kept inching toward the phone as if they had their own mind, which resulting in Beca continually snatching her own hands away from her phone. The overpowering desire to just _talk_ made it impossible to focus on the track she was editing.

From across the room came a groan, and then laced with annoyance, “I swear to god, if you don’t text her, I’m gonna do it for you.”

“What? Dude, no. I dunno what you’re talking about.” The pointed, piercing glare Chloe shot her over the rim of her reading glasses called bullshit. Beca caved first. “Okay, alright, _fine_ but like, she’s probably busy–”

“She’s on vacation.”

“– or not up for talking–”

“Did you just miss the entire year where she stared you down like she wanted to devour you? Was it just _all_ of the rest of us who saw it?” Chloe arched a brow. “Becs, just text her. Do you seriously think a text is going to scare off a woman who can probably bench press _you_?”

The image of Luisa doing exactly that popped into Beca’s head, and she groaned. “Maybe?” Chloe snapped her book shut and moved to get up, and Beca snatched her phone up. “Okay, alright! Fine! I’ll text her!”

It took twenty minutes, six drafts and endlessly bouncing ideas off Chloe (whose answer was “it’s fine, just _send it_ ” for all of them) for her to finally just send “ _Hi._ :)”

What if the smiley face was too much? What if it made her seem uncool? Or less cool. It would’ve been impossible for Luisa to miss the fact that she was, in fact, not very cool. What if–

_‘Hallo, Maus. :)’_ And then a moment later, _‘Good to see you haven’t lost my number. I was getting a bit worried.’_

Oh, shit. Had Luisa been waiting for her to text?

_‘oh no, still have it! I was just trying to remember how words work because honestly texting you is like the equivalent of texting venus so like’_ Sent, before she could back out. And then a groan.

_‘And your aggressive compliments even happen in text. How adorable <3_’

She felt her face burn and wasn’t sure whether being called adorable or that stupid little text heart was the reason. Probably both.

_‘Now, I had hoped to explore France more with you, but I’m afraid I’m not quite up for it…’_

Well. That was a crushing disappointment. Beca sighed – had it been the rambling? Or something else? Luisa seemed pretty excited to see her again when they parted earlier, but this was a pretty clear rejection. She tried to ignore the pang of hurt and elected for a simple, _‘oh that’s cool, maybe we’ll catch each other again sometime.’_

_‘Actually…’_

_Luisa is typing…._

_‘I was… hoping you would be interested in something quiet? Movies at my hotel perhaps?’_

Oh.

Beca blinked.

That was… not what she expected. So Luisa was actually just feeling a bit under the weather, then.

_‘If you wanted to explore France I would understand, of course.’_

Ah, shit. Waited too long to reply. Again. She quickly tapped out ‘ _no yeah that sounds great, where are you staying?’_

 _‘no… yeah?’_ a laughing emoji followed it, and Beca rolled her eyes. _‘I’m not far from yours. I’ll send the address and room # and you can just come over sometime tomorrow, ja?’_

Luisa sent her the address and Beca saved it, and from there the conversation picked up, and suddenly it was one in the morning and neither of them had even realized it.

‘ _Gute Nacht, Maus,’_ Luisa finally sent, after they had tried -unsuccessfully- to end the conversation. _‘Sweet dreams and sleep well. Wouldn’t want you falling asleep on me tomorrow.’_ Beca grinned and was about to reply and set the phone aside when another text came through. _‘Or perhaps I would. ;)’_

This woman was trying to kill her. That was the only reasonable explanation, nothing else made sense. She stared at her phone for a long moment, trying to decide what could possibly match that.

Nothing, obviously.

_‘Good night to you too, smooth talker.’_

She’d never admit it, but Beca may have dreamed about silky blonde hair and eyes like storm clouds that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is shorter than the other chapters. i couldn't decide if I wanted this in the last chapter or the next one, so instead I just made it its own chapter. kind of like a little interlude.


	4. Chapter 4

The fact that she was going to hang out with Luisa, alone, in a hotel, hit Beca just as she was walking out the door. Which, of course, meant it was the perfect time to overthink. She sent Luisa a quick ‘ _hey, heading over now, see you in like 10 mins!_ ’ and Luisa sent back a smiley and a heart which _should_ have read as a good sign.

Instead, she found herself reading into it. Emojis were the low effort version of texting and sure, she sent emoji strings to the Bellas all the time, but they knew each other and knew it was probably just that she was busy (or messing with them, depending on how weird the combo was.) What if this was like… polite texting but the kind where Luisa realized she didn’t actually want to hang out but didn’t want to back out because it was rude?

And then there was the _other_ thought train. The ‘ _oh god what if this was intentional to get me to come over so we’re alone and she wants to do more’_ thought train. Which was its own swirl of confusion because she knew herself and knew she usually took longer to warm up to anything clothes-off. 

But Luisa was hot – _really_ hot – and also the first person she _had_ felt an immediate, overpowering legitimate attraction to, so would it be so bad if that were where this was going?

She was so lost in her own head that she sped right past the hotel, stopped too abruptly and nearly twisted her ankle. Muttering swears under her breath, she swung the door open to the lobby and had to take a moment. It was nice – not lavish, but definitely not your basic Motel 6 (what was the French equivalent of that, anyway?). She checked her phone to confirm the room number, steeled herself against the rising anxiety, and headed for the elevator.

And if she hovered outside room 103 for longer than necessary, debating between texting or just knocking, maybe she’d just excuse it as getting lost in the hotel.

Beca wasn’t sure she had ever knocked so softly. Should she knock again? No, that would be weird.

She had just pulled her phone back out to text Luisa when the lock clicked, and the door swung inward to reveal someone who was definitely _not_ Luisa.

Bright green eyes stared down at her, and there was a beat of awkwardness before a grin split his face and he stepped aside. The friendliness felt weird after how competitive Worlds had been two years ago, but it was a welcome change. “Ah, feisty _Maus_! So nice to see you again. Less of a hot mess too, I see.”

She rolled her eyes. “You lost your gloating privileges when we kicked your asses at Worlds, buddy.”

He had the good grace to look wounded, but still scoffed. “Mmm, _nein_ , but I will let it go. Water beneath the bridge?”

She snorted, electing to wait while Pieter pranced off to, presumably, let Luisa know she was here. Luisa hadn’t actually mentioned she was traveling with Pieter, and it made her a little uneasy. It had never been totally clear what they were to each other – Beca always assumed it was platonic based on the way Luisa seemed to keep him in line the same way she kept the rest of DSM in line. Cutting, pointed stares and strict, short commands.

Still, she didn’t know for _sure_ , and for all she knew they were a thing and trying to rope her into their pre-existing sex life. It was low on her list of possibilities, and she was fairly sure Luisa wasn’t the type to deceive her like that, but it was still a possibility and anxiety brain wouldn’t let her rule it out yet.

A sudden outburst of yelling from the other room pulled her out of her thoughts. Her German was rusty, but it was still better than a couple years ago. It was enough that she caught snippets of conversation – something about Pieter being worried, and Luisa’s snapped _“Ich brauch deine Sorge nicht!”_ Something else that sounded like annoyance that Pieter had answered the door himself instead of informing her, and Pieter’s deeper mumbled apology.

The arguing quieted, but a door slammed and when Luisa rounded the corner, she still looked annoyed. _Angel of vengeance_ , Beca’s brain supplied helpfully, because even flustered and still muttering insults in German over her shoulder, she was gorgeous.

Her demeanor brightened a bit as she drew closer, and blue eyes softened as her lips tipped upward. “ _Hallo, Maus._ Took you a bit longer than ten minutes, hm?”

“I–” she hesitated, and Luisa’s brows arched, and finally she grumbled, “… Anxiety.”

She expected more than a considerate hum, but somehow that was still the perfect response and once again, she wondered how the hell this woman seemed to know her so well. 

Luisa looked so soft like this, nearly engulfed by a DSM shirt that looked two sizes too big, face bare, with her hair down. She looked at ease in a way Beca hadn’t seen before but had glimpsed back at the café.

Beca felt her breath hitch as she realized that Luisa was wearing fucking _thigh high_ stockings. Black, like the rest of her wardrobe, and so tight they hugged her skin and accentuated those ridiculously shapely calves and thighs.

It occurred to Beca that Luisa could probably crush her head with those thighs, and she would just be grateful for the opportunity.

She wrenched her eyes back up to Luisa’s face, whose adorable little crow’s feet returned as she smirked. “See something you like?”

It lacked her usual bravado, though, and Beca giggled. “That shirt is ridiculous. I think that’s the only thing that could make you look small.”

Luisa huffed in mock indignation. “The shirt is comfortable, and it’s rude to judge, _Maus_.”

“Who said I was judging? I’m just mad I’m stuck in jeans.” She shrugged, a beat of silence, and then white teeth flashed at her and Luisa’s eyebrows lifted and she realized her mistake. “Okay wait no that sounded weird but–”

The soft, lingering kiss on her cheek was enough to stop her rambling. And the rest of her thoughts.

Not for long, of course. “What kind of unholy deal did you make for lips that soft?” escaped her on a single breath, and Luisa chuckled as Beca cleared her throat. “I mean – um, movies? You got snacks?”

Luisa shot her a look that could have passed for offense. “Obviously, I have snacks. I’m not a monster.”

She turned and Beca followed wordlessly. And she didn’t _mean_ to stare at the sway of Luisa’s hips, but now that she had, she again noticed that distinct hesitance in her step. It was so subtle, but she had spent a ridiculous amount of time staring at those same hips two years ago, and Luisa had _definitely_ had a different stride then.

Luisa’s hotel was definitely a step up from the one the Bellas had booked. For one, it had an actual bedroom, which included a massive bed that Beca promptly flopped onto.

“Ugh, this is so soft. The hotel we booked has rock-hard mattresses.” She propped herself up on her elbows to find Luisa watching her considerately. “What?”

Head tilted to one side, Luisa grinned and just moved to the other side of the bed. Prowled, even, and the flash in her eyes reminded Beca of the same haughty challenge from years past. A spark of liquid heat curled low in her belly and she broke the eye contact, choosing to stare at the wall instead.

Until Luisa reached across her. Loomed, almost.

And she squeaked.

Brows lifted and blue eyes stared down at her, and there was that goddamn predatory _smirk_ she remembered. But instead of the teasing Beca expected, Luisa just laughed softly and murmured, “You are _adorable_ ,” kissed Beca’s forehead, and sat up, brandishing the remote. “Can’t watch anything without this, hm?”

They settled for watching some Danish political drama that Luisa liked (who knew?) and Beca pointed at the screen during the mini-trailer with a laugh. “Hey, she looks like you. You moonlight as an actress?”

Luisa’s amused snort had her grinning, and blue eyes rolled at her. “I can assure you that if I were an actress with such renown, I would be able to afford a nicer hotel than this.”

“Trust me, this is still better than ours. I’m just sharing with Chloe again.”

A considerate hum, and Luisa asked, “The other fiery one, with the red hair?” When Beca nodded, Luisa smirked. “One of DSM’s teammates had quite the crush on her.”

“What? No way.”

“Mhm. Aren, the girl she sang with at the riff-off at the strange man’s house?” When Beca nodded, she grinned. “You didn’t notice all the flirting?”

“I mean, I didn’t even notice I was flirting with you so, y’know.”

Luisa turned, propped her head up against her elbow (pointedly _not_ watching the show, Beca noticed) and smiled. “Is that so?” Beca’s confused blink prompted her to continue. “You knew. You just weren’t ready to admit it.” A beat, and the tension between them swelled. It would be so easy to lean over and kiss lips that looked so incredibly inviting, tug that long blonde hair that looked like it would feel like silk. It would be _so_ easy.

Brows wagged suggestively at her, breaking the tension, and she scoffed and opted to hit Luisa with the nearest pillow. “You’re terrible.”

“Maybe,” she agreed. “But you like it.”

There was a suggestion in her voice. It wasn’t pressure, but it was an invitation. Luisa had grabbed the pillow thrown her way to prop her head up, arm outstretched and _so close_ but not quite touching Beca’s on the bed. The room suddenly felt both too large and suffocating, and Beca wasn’t entirely sure if it was just nerves, or if this was the start of an anxiety attack which – that would be the opposite of ideal, right now.

Luisa smiled softly, pulled her hand away and tucked it under her cheek, and she looked so soft, so gentle like this. The tension still hung between them, but it felt so different from when they first knew each other. Tension surrounding the competition had always felt like so _much_. It was suffocating and it clouded Beca’s mind to the point of incoherence, and _Kommissar_ ’s ego and bravado were dizzying.

Part of her said _Run, this is already too much_. The larger, more curious part said _Stay._

She chose to listen to that part.

The mattress made a soft _fwump_ as she flopped down beside Luisa, not quite touching, but close enough to reach out if she wanted to. On the edge of _too close_ , even, but it still felt comfortable. They’d always had this push-pull dynamic. _Like an accordion_ , Beca mused, and grimaced because wow, that was not the most romantic instrument.

The blue of Luisa’s eyes was too intense, too much, all-consuming, and sitting in silence suddenly felt suffocating again.

“So, you didn’t tell me you were traveling with Pieter,” she forced out, far too aware of the tightness in her throat that she hoped would go unnoticed.

It didn’t, but Luisa chose not to remark on it. “We usually travel together,” she replied. Her voice was a low hum, thick with the calm of the room, and she was close enough that her breath fanned Beca’s nose. “Traveling alone isn’t as fun, and Pieter is much better at finding the best restaurants.”

_Would it be weird to ask…? She would’ve told me if they were together, right?_

But the nagging feeling wouldn’t let up, and with a huff, she gave in. “I know this is stupid, but are you guys like a – thing?” When brows furrowed and Luisa just blinked at her, she clarified, “Like – together? Dating?”

There was a beat, and then the confusion cleared, and the ridiculous snort of laughter Beca received made her face burn. “No, he is like my brother,” she managed through giggles.

_Well, made that awkward._ Beca wrapped the pillow around her face and groaned into it, mumbling something – honestly, she wasn’t even sure what she said – until hands grasped her wrist softly, pried the pillow away, and she was met with a gentle smile.

“It’s a valid question, no need to be embarrassed.” That smile really would have been enough to blind someone. “But no, strictly platonic. Pieter is chosen family.” A mischievous grin touched her lips, and she chuckled. “He’ll be incredibly amused that you thought we were together, though. Not the first time that has happened.” There was a beat of silence before she followed with, “If you thought we were together, what exactly did you expect here?”

“Uh.” Brows quirked, and she swallowed. “I… _may_ have been worried that youwantedathreesomeorsomething.” It left her in a whoosh of air, and Luisa’s brows nearly shot up to her hairline.

“… Ah.”

Oh, that was bad. “Okay, but not because of anything you did, like I don’t think you’re a terrible person trying to trick the clueless girl into a threesome or something, I just have some baggage around that and–”

“Wait. What ‘baggage’?”

Of course _that_ was the part she zeroed in on.

“Just – y’know. Stuff.” When Luisa only watched her, unconvinced and unimpressed, and sighed. “I just – when I told Jesse I was bi that was one of the first things he asked about. And it wasn’t _meant_ to be weird or – like, he’s a good guy, we weren’t a good fit, but he just had zero tact and it just – I don’t know. It’s stuck with me. It’s stupid.”

The clearly-displeased grumble from her date (oh right, this was a date) almost made her laugh. Until she saw exactly how serious Luisa was when she propped herself up again and muttered, “ _Men_ ,” in the most unenthused voice Beca had ever heard.

_That_ made her laugh, and the smile she got in return was worth it even if her body still felt like it was on fire with all the nerves. _Mental note to get back into therapy when I’m back in the states._

“Was he the first person you told?” and oh, her voice was soft. So soft. She was still propped up, just enough to look down at Beca, and it should have felt like some kind of power move but instead, it just felt like comfort.

“Yeah, figured he should know. Some of it after that was good, we could check out girls together and stuff, but I always had the feeling he was hoping I’d be into the whole threesome idea and I’m just – not.”

“Fair enough. It’s – it’s a lot of limbs,” and this time it was Beca’s turn to stare in disbelief. Luisa coughed and offered a sheepish smile and shrug. “DSM was very close and a few of the girls were… _very_ affectionate.”

Well, shit. She was never into the idea before, but the mental image alone was almost enough to flip that. “Ladykiller.”

“No broken hearts,” Luisa defended. “Just fun and a way to release stress after shows.”

“Huh. Hadn’t pegged you as so sex-positive.”

“Did you not see my outfits?”

“Oh god, so much, but honestly I was a lot more distracted by whatever wasn’t covered and your lips because _fuck_ and oh god I’m rambling again,” another groan of annoyance at herself, but she decided to roll with it this time. This time, the darkness in her tone was intentional. “Particularly the one at the riff-off? With the bare midriff.” Was it dry in here? She licked her lips. “It was… distracting.”

The shift was immense, and wow, was it hot in here too? Fuck.

A flash of teeth, a grin, and Luisa’s tone matched hers when she countered, “Was it, now?” Her eyes flicked across Beca’s face, and she didn’t miss the very pointed glance at her lips before she looked up again. “What would you say if I told you that was intentional?”

She managed to swallow around the thick feeling in her throat. “I’d say it was rude and poor sportsmanship.”

The laugh that replied was quiet, husky, and Luisa’s voice equally quiet when she murmured, “Oh, the competition had nothing to do with that choice.”

Something flashed across her eyes, playful and wild, and Beca nearly choked as she realized how _close_ they were. And it was terrifying, because fuck, the air felt so thick it could drown her and the overwhelming sensation of _Luisa_ clouded her mind until there was just endless blue and a confident smirk.

She was moving before she thought better of it, fingers buried in and gripping blonde hair, and she had the presence of mind to mutter, “Can I kiss you?” and register Luisa’s wide eyes and eager nod before pulling her down.

Whenever Beca had imagined this, she definitely hadn’t been the leading, but the reality was so much better than any fantasy she’d ever entertained and Luisa’s soft sigh into her mouth felt like the world righting itself and shattering at the same time.

Luisa shifted just slightly, and honestly Beca didn’t care what she did as long as she didn’t pull away, but the hand that cupped her cheek _so_ gently was even better. And when she nibbled Luisa’s bottom lip gently – just to test – and Luisa’s breath hitched, Beca smiled.

“Feisty _Maus_ ,” Luisa managed against her lips, and Beca grinned again before tugging her closer because if Luisa could still speak, she wasn’t kissing her well enough and that needed to be fixed.

It felt like both seconds and an eternity by the time they separated, just enough for air, and Luisa swallowed, trying to catch her breath and failing miserably. She looked… wrecked was the only way to describe it, but in the best way, all wild hair and hazy eyes, pupils blown wide and mouth still parted to sip the air.

Her hand was still buried in Luisa’s hair, and she didn’t realize how tightly she’d been holding on until she relaxed her grip and Luisa’s breath stuttered again.

“Shit, sorry – did I hurt you?”

Her jaw worked soundlessly for a moment, but she shook her head. It was a couple seconds longer before Luisa cleared her throat quietly and managed softly, “No, that’s – no, I’m fine.” A deep breath, one more, and she stretched out beside Beca, face pressed against her neck as her arm snaked around Beca’s waist.

As much as she usually wasn’t one for cuddling, this was nice, and she ran her fingers through blonde locks – just as silky as she had assumed – while Luisa caught her breath.

The low chuckle against her neck brought her back to the moment, and when she looked down (because somehow, Luisa had curled all six feet of herself around Beca’s tiny frame), Luis was just watching her with the most adoring expression. That alone could have melted her.

“Feistier than I thought,” she laughed, and Beca didn’t miss the way her voice shook lightly around the edges. “Really, I’m okay.”

For a moment, she debated arguing or at least pressing, because there was something _more_ than what she said with words, but she decided to let it go for now. Whatever was behind the words didn’t seem dangerous, just different, and that could be discussed later.

Later.

_Fuck._

She gathered up whatever courage she had left and asked, “So… when are you going back to Germany?”

“Denmark, actually,” Luisa corrected. “Copenhagen.”

“No way, did you already live there during Worlds?”

A yawn – god that was cute – and Luisa shook her head. “DSM rented a house there during Worlds. The others moved on, I stayed. Pieter actually moved as well; he lives a few blocks from me.”

She couldn’t find anything to reply with, so she just stayed quiet, still running her fingers through thick hair. It was soothing, in a way, and a new sensation. Jesse’s hair had always been too short to do this, and she wasn’t quite at that level with the other Bellas. She hadn’t even realized it would be so nice to stroke through someone’s hair while cuddled up like this.

“Beca?” Hearing her name spoken so softly snapped her attention back immediately. Luisa pulled back, propped herself up again and hesitated. “This is a bit ridiculous, but…” she bit her lip, glanced away, and Beca was again struck by just how different she was to the Kommissar she had originally know. And how similar, in some ways. “Come back to Copenhagen with me?”

She blinked. Paused. Her brain might have done a quick reset. “I’d love to.” Luisa brightened, and she grimaced. “ _But._ I’m not sure – I mean, I’d need to make a couple calls and – seriously?”

Luisa smiled. “Seriously,” she affirmed with a little nod, and it was so cute Beca almost missed the next words out of her mouth. “What are the odds we would have a third chance meeting? I want to take advantage of this one.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s _so_ cheesy. Wow, you’re a sap.”

Blue eyes narrowed, but the playful glint was back, and when Luisa stuck her tongue out defiantly, the only thing running through Beca’s mind was how she could get used to this, could get used to these kinds of little moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find the easter egg! c:
> 
> Ich brauch deine Sorge nicht - I don't need your worry/concern
> 
> also: this is currently the longest chapter, so that's neat!

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a while since i watched any of pitch perfect that wasn't just the performance or dsm/becommissar scenes so i'm a lil rusty  
> someone: becommissar is dead what are you even doing  
> me, frantically writing in a corner: OH REALLY?


End file.
